


Let There Be Darkness

by elospock



Category: The Left Hand of Darkness - Ursula K. Le Guin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28234926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elospock/pseuds/elospock
Summary: The years passed, and didn’t look like each other—and yet, I was taken aback when I realised that today marked the tenth year anniversary of my arrival on Gethen. Ten years. It was a cold morning, nothing special about it, nothing unusual; the kind of mornings that I had grown to love and cherish, against all odds.*Or a quick glimpse of what happens on the morning that marks Genly Ai's tenth anniversary on Gethen.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Let There Be Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idanit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idanit/gifts).



> Dear friend, how convenient that I have just been reading The Left Hand of Darkness again in the past few weeks. This novel is so dear to me and remains definitely one of my absolute favourites of all times. Well, I decided to get inspired by your prompt, but also let the words guide me. I tried to stay close to the canon… but I did stretch it a little. You’ll see why. A note that I haven’t finished rereading the book, and didn’t want to re-spoil myself, so hopefully I remembered the details of the end of the book more or less correctly? I might update this when I finish it haha
> 
> I love the universes that Ursula Le Guin creates so much, and it was a delight to make it my own for this story. And since you’re really into that specific world, you should definitely read The Birthday of the World, one of her short stories collections! If I remember correctly, the first one takes place on Gethen, and is very much a further exploration of this world! I think you’d enjoy it, this other story is also very close to my heart, because it’s so different, but no less beautiful and poignant in its own way.
> 
> Anyway, here goes! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Wishing you all the best and I hope you and your loved ones are safe in these wild and scary times. Happy Yuletide!

*A note to say that I decided to use they/them pronouns for Estraven!

The years passed, and didn’t look like each other—and yet, I was taken aback when I realised that today marked the tenth year anniversary of my arrival on Gethen. Ten years. It was a cold morning, nothing special about it, nothing unusual; the kind of mornings that I had grown to love and cherish, against all odds.

My body never fully got used to the cold, of course, but with every year, every season, every month, I started noticing it less and less in some ways, or maybe it just started living in me, in the way life simply makes it happen.

And as time went on, I stopped daydreaming of the torrid days of my youth, spent naked in fields as vast as the biggest cities of Karhide and Orgoreyn combined. I stopped longing for the sea, and the feeling of warm water on my skin, the taste of salt on my lips, as a punishing sun made everything dance in light, so much light.

I kept those memories like you do with an old lover’s, whose embrace you still remember, but no longer crave like you once did. I kept them like jewels, in a box of velvet I built with the lining of my heart and kept hidden deep in my soul. I had made peace with this other life I had led, what felt now like centuries ago, and I cherished it like elders, I imagined, remember their days of youth and first loves, as though through a veil of blurred softness that only time and distance can weave.

Everything was calm in the hearth I had called home for the past three years. I had traveled far and wide, in my time here. I had met people from all over Gethen, witnessed their daily rituals, learned, humbly, from their impressive knowledge of their surroundings. And every time I watched them teach me their immemorial wisdoms, all I could think of was Estraven’s beautiful face as they prepared food for us; or the way they went down the snowy slopes with an elegance I could only dream of; and the way they could have withstood any storm, any hardship thrown our way, just to protect me, to make sure I would survive. It was a wound that would never fully heal, no matter how many years, how many seasons, how many months would pass. Therem had been, and always would be, a dearly missed friend.

And it made my heart hurt every time I thought of all the shyness, the awkwardness, the clumsy feelings we had—or rather hadn’t—expressed to each other.

Me, who considered myself quite good with words—there was a reason after all, I was selected as an Envoy—I had failed my dearest friend so profoundly in that respect. I think I lacked the self-awareness that they always seemed to wear like a perfectly fitted glove. Or maybe I’d just been a blind fool, that’s what I’d been. I just missed the subdued and subtle beauty of their thoughts and the light in their heart, caught like I was in foolish ideas and categorisations of gender and sexuality.

The fact is, it’s not even like I didn’t know about transness and gender fluidity. It had long been accepted back on Terra that people came in a beautiful and diverse spectrum of genders and sexualities. Long gone was the time where anyone would have been discriminated against because of it. And it’s not like I hadn’t studied extensively Gethen’s society, habits, culture. I had learned more than just the language before arriving there.

And yet, here I had been, in my first few months here, full of prejudices and disdain, full of superiority for coming from a race of creatures with defined sexes and genders. Here I had been, regressing to a shadow of the real Genly, a Genly who had forgotten all the teachings je had been modeling his whole life. Was it because I couldn’t understand it? Was it because I was shocked? Because it was so different to experience it rather than study it?

Was it because I had been secretly envious of this freedom, this liberation from gender, from gender norms, from binaries that Gethanians simply lived and breathed?

How tragic that it had taken Therem’s death for me to realise how much of a fool, an ignorant, conceited, arrogant fool I had been to limit myself in such ways—and that somehow, amidst all of my faults, all of my flaws, all of my shortcomings, Therem, beautiful and careful Therem, had found in their heart to love me. They had seen something in me I could still only barely make out, years and years after the fact.

I knew now that it was love that Therem had shown me, when they had shared their thoughts with me, in this telepathic way that is just another exquisite part of Gethenians’ flexibility and fluidity. Therem had tried to keep it hidden, admittedly, and it had taken me years to figure out what this careful, soft, shadow I had felt in their mind and heart was love. The kind of love poets write about endlessly, creating new words and worlds just to express the monumentality of this glowing feeling. That kind of love, yes. A love that goes beyond romance, beyond sentimentality, beyond friendship, and yet, is also exactly that—a friendship, a kinship, a rare meeting of the souls.

That’s what this shadow, calm and steady, both warm and silky, had been; and that I’d been too blind, too naive, too young to see then.

Slowly, I stood up from the slim mattress I got used to calling bed and walked towards one of the doors. I needed a breath of fresh air, to clean away the cobwebs of regret and sorrow that still held my heart with a grip I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to escape.

The sky was low, as was usual at this time of year, but the grey light was welcome. It felt good to feel the breeze on my skin, and to breathe in another day, shared with the people I could now call friends. It felt good to be alive, in this second, to be just a sentient body amidst many, to be a conscience in a hearth of consciences, regardless of our very real and tangible differences. It felt good to exist.

After a while, I opened my eyes, and my gaze fell unto a small gathering that was starting to form at the entrance of the small town I was living in. I knew other envoys had arrived a few months earlier, and I knew that it always created a buzz of excitement amidst my friends and hearthmates, when a new “alien” visited. I personally didn’t really like spending much time with these other envoys. There was something about them that irked me, and I knew it was petty, and preposterous of me to judge them like I did. After all, they were only versions of me when I had first gotten here, except, they didn’t have to work nearly as hard as I did to pursue their mission. I had opened the way for them, made it easy for them to discover this beautiful and unique world. Maybe that’s why I resented them so much—because they reminded me too much of me, too much of my own arrogance, and I despised them for it because I despised myself for having been anything like them. They were impatient, grossly curious, and knew nothing of the subtleties of shifgrethor, having mostly read my journal entries and not experienced it first hand like I had to. Like Estraven had shown me, taught me, given me.

I sighed but decided that I’d have to be polite and acknowledge my fellow Ekumen at some point; might as well do it now, I told myself.

As I approached, however, there was a different kind of feverishness in the air; it was as though the wind was made of static, heavy with buzzing electricity, and there was some kind of shared build up of excitement in the air, no doubt produced by the low-grade telepathy of the Gethanians around me.

As soon as I approached the gathering, it was as though I was the King of Karhide myself. I was surprised, as I saw my friends and acquaintances make way for me, parting the crowd, almost bowing to me with a reverence I couldn’t place, and I grew uneasy. I had gotten used to being part of the decor here; I didn’t stand out quite as much as I first did, except for the obvious. I had become “normal” to people around me, and I was grateful for it. I walked gingerly towards the gates of the town, until the crowd was all but behind me. I immediately recognised one of the new envoys—what was her name, Meesh? Mischa?—and she was accompanied by a few other people, all dressed in the official palace colours. I arched an eyebrow; what could possibly be official palace business this far from Ehrenrang?

“Ah! There he is,” said the envoy with a broad smile. “We’ve been looking for you all over! You’re a hard man to track, Genly.”

I smiled tightly. Had I truly been that annoying? I couldn’t believe I had ever been this pompous and proud. And yet, I probably had. A sobering thought, if there ever was one.

“Eh, I’ve learned the hard way not to stick out more than I already do,” I replied simply.

“And yet—somehow you still haven’t mastered how to tie your coat like a true Karhidian, it seems,” said one of the smaller figures behind the envoy.

I blinked; once, twice. I knew that voice. But it couldn’t be. I—it was just impossible.

And yet, as I lived and breathed, Therem Harth rem ir Estraven was standing in front of me.

I was speechless. Utterly, completely, absolutely speechless, in every possible way. The crowd was gawking at us; everyone here knew about my friendship with Estraven of course. They all knew—well, they all knew the feelings I had had for them too. It’s not like I could have hidden it from them anyway.

“Genry?” said Estraven, and there was something fragile in their voice, as though hesitant, suddenly unsure.

It broke and mended my heart all at once, and I took the few steps that separated us.

“This is a dream. I’m still sleeping,” I heard myself say. I didn’t dare try to reach out for them; I didn’t want to relinquish this illusion, if it was one, I couldn’t bear to lose them again.

I couldn’t take my eyes away from theirs, from their face, their lips, everything that made them Estraven, Therem, my love, my friend.

They smiled softly at me; and I fell to my knees, embracing their small body, pulling it against mine, feeling their bosom under all the layers of clothes, smelling their familiar scent, which I had almost forgotten after all these years but came rushing back, feeling them inhale and exhale, and laugh against my ear, and it was impossible, it was impossible, and yet—Estraven was there. They were there, really, in the flesh, physically there. It was against all logic, it made no sense whatsoever, and yet, they were there. It wasn’t a dream.

“Therem, Therem, Therem,” I murmured over and over, crying, laughing, my heart so full I thought surely it would explode.

They lifted my head so I would face them. “I’m afraid I’m a little late,” they whispered and I laughed as I stood up and lift them up the ground, holding on to them like I had scarcely held onto anything else in this life, afraid that reality was going to catch up to us and take them away from me once again.

They were laughing in my ears too, whispering my name with a joy that no shifgrethor in the world could have hidden, and in that one moment, that one instant, I saw all of my life in front on my eyes, all the tears, the strain, the pain, the hardships, all the years spent longing, yearning, mourning, healing; all the seasons that had changed, one after the other, inexorably, endlessly adding layers of sorrow and regret and humility; all the months passing by like pebbles at the bottom of a melting river; all that I had been and all that I ever would be coexisted in that instant, and all of it was contained in one single word, a word that had changed more than my life and my world and my small, unimportant, inconsequential existence.

Estraven.


End file.
